


Helpless

by zoemargaret



Series: Manager Verse [8]
Category: Football RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoemargaret/pseuds/zoemargaret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pep and Bojan make a deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> This was written with my very good friend last_panda. We have chats on gmail that nearly always degenerate into filthy, filthy porn, what can I say?
> 
> Explicit sex, light bondage, and light crossdressing.

Bojan runs the silk tie up Pep's thigh over the coarse hair, slipping it up and sliding it across his balls and they tighten up, material slightly damp from his precome and Bojan's spit. Just a little bit more, just a little bit and he can-

But Bojan pulls back smirking and Pep whimpers and breaks, pushing up onto his elbows. Bojan slides his hands up Pep's torso, crawling up his body, till he has his hands on pep's shoulder straddling him then lies down, warm and curvy and strong. And that damn tie is caught between them, a cool stripe across Pep's stomach as Bojan starts a slow grind, Pep's cock caught between Bojan's hip and his own stomach and it's perfect, so perfect. Bojan is making these breathy little noises and Pep can't help it, body rushing ahead, doesn't listen to his internal pleas to hold on for just a moment more...He spasms and he shouts in frustrated pleasure as he comes, spurting against the other man's stomach, coming just from friction and Bojan's noises. As soon as he regains control he turns his head to hide his humiliated blush. He can feel the other man sitting up but he can't look, can't bear to see the expression. He remains that way, choking down his mortification when he feels slender fingers tracing through the cooling spunk on his stomach. He has to look.

Bojan gathers the come onto his fingers till they're thickly coated; Pep stops breathing. Then, one hand braced on Pep's chest, he leans forward, back in a painful slope so Pep can see him thrust his come-slick fingers into himself. He rolls forward with the motion and Pep's hands come up to support him, Bojan's body twitching as he fingerfucks himself.

But it's not just the visual, not just the smell of his own come mixing with Bojan's warm musky scent. No, Bojan's talking as he fucks himself with Pep's come, filthy words spilling from those perfect lips. "Oh god pep, so good, you feel so good inside me. Can you see? Can you see me fucking myself with your come?"

Pep's going out of his mind, cock trying to harden but it's too soon, too soon, and all he can do is hold Bojan up, strong muscles flexing against his hands, but even that's almost impossible when Bojan sits up just enough to scrape up the last of Pep's come. Even as his supporting arm trembles he brings his hand to his mouth and licks his fingers, just once. His eyes droop in pleasure. "Pep," he breathes, "you taste so good." He leaves the fingers there and inhales once, twice. "Fuck, you even smell good." Pep actually whines at that, urging ordering his cock to harden, wills the blood down. Bojan leans down again and Pep watches as he uses three fingers this time, again bracing him. "Pep, you feel so good." His eyes close with pleasure and Pep makes a plaintive sound, feeling bereft. Watching Bojan do this to himself is hot, but seeing Bojan's eyes as he shoves his fingers in and out, as he hisses with pleasure, is incendiary. Bojan apparently understands because after only a moment he opens his eyes, blue green hazy with pleasure and lust.

Pep's panting; there's not enough air in the room, in the world. He wants to fuck him so bad, so so so bad, and bojan's still on his knees above him, thrusting up into the air and back onto his fingers then he bends down and rubs against Pep's chest, hand behind him, Pep's come glistening on his fingers as he fucks himself, body shaking in against Pep's hands, against his chest. He presses closer to Pep's chest, his back arches so ass pushes up even more and he bites at Pep's chest, sharp little teeth nearly drawing blood and he whispers "Help me, Pep. I want you deeper, want you more," a high whine as jams his fingers in and rotates his wrist, whimpering and jerking as he pushes his head deeper and deeper. But he can't get deeper from this angle so Pep finally lets go of his sides to palm his ass, cheeks plump and full in his hands and he squeezes then pulls them apart savagely, relishes Bojan's high cry as his fingers unexpectedly stab deeper. "Pep, it feels so good, I'm rubbing you into my hole, into my prostate, I'm going to come like this, going to come with you..." He breaks off and moans, buries his face into Pep's chest as he viciously fucks himself, hand a blur.

Pep's so turned on it hurts and Bojan's nibbling on the underside of his jaw now, tongue rasping on stubble interspersed with nips and bites and moans, rocking against Pep and Pep's squeezing his asscheeks rhythmically, can't help it, pulling them wider, further apart but Bojan doesn't protest, just whines louder and Pep slides his fingers deeper into the cleft of his ass. Can feel Bojan's fingers slide in and out of himself, smooth skin slick with sweat and come, his come, and he pushes his fingers down further. Bojan jumps as he finally slides his fingers into that slick heat, tips of his fingers forcing his hole wider, fingers slip deeper when Bojan gives a pleased rumble, bites approvingly at Pep's collarbone.

And finally, finally Pep is hard again. He surges up and flips Bojan over in one violent motion and shoves into him, so quick and rough Bojan doesn't have time to pull his fingers out and the boy gasps for air, Pep's cock and his own fingers grinding against his prostate and Bojan screams in pain and pleasure and he squeezes like a fucking velvet vise around pep's cock, writhing and moaning, and Pep grits his teeth and balances so he can reach between them and yank Bojan's cock. It only takes a few strokes before Bojan is arching into an impossible curve and screaming, fingers clawing at Pep's shoulder, his neck, his back. Pep's so involved watching him he slows down, hips in a lazy grind.

And Bojan lies there, knees bent double against his chest and watches Pep with a faint smile at the corners of his mouth, watching Pep with the fucking wide green eyes.

Pep comes for the second time, body still so sensitive from the first time that it hurts, raw nerves screaming. Bojan's so tight around him but he fights to shove his cock all the way in even as his cock softens, trying to coat him with his come. As soon as he pulls out, Bojan's shoving his fingers into his hole with a little smug happy sigh. Pep chuckles once, voice raw, completely wrecked. Just as his arms give up Bojan guides him to collapse at his side, then snuggles against him. As Pep recovers, blissed out and smiling goofily at the ceiling, he's vaguely aware of Bojan picking up his hand. Soft wet touch on his palm and he musters up enough energy to turn his head to see Bojan almost absently kissing each finger and his eyes droop and his movements become slower and slower, until his head is on the pillow next to Pep, his hand still clutched to his throat.

Pep thinks about pulling his hand back but bojan has such a tight grip and he can feel the little puffs of air as Bojan breathes. He curves his fingers so they're just brushing the soft curve of Bojan's throat and leaves it there.


End file.
